Friends, countrymen, lend me your clippers… or… maybe not.
In these days of unrest and unease, whether or not I get a haircut is, perhaps, not news in and of itself, but gall-darn-it, I’m taking a stand here, people. This is my Covid protest and I’m not cutting what little hair I have until we’re back to normal or I can’t stand it or my wife refuses to have anything to do with me and all that entails.
It’s important we make a stand.
Does this mean I think it’s all a hoax or a plot or some such deviance that stands to deprive me of my many rights and all of that? Probably not. But that’s not the point. And, to make the muck murkier; assuming that’s possible, no point needs to be made because differentiation between fact and fiction, truth and lies, bunk and “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you,” is for all intents and purposes as dead as the proverbial doorknob.
What isn’t dead, dear reader, is a vast desire on the part of all of us, no matter how politically inclined (or disinclined) for this to be over so we can once again gather and prevaricate in person. Online crazy is fine and dandy if that’s your thing, or if those around you are uninterested in the many plots you feel are afoot, but many of us prefer to stare into another face in order to really get a good grasp of how out there our “friends” think we are.
This is important.
Sure, there is a kind of satisfaction to be mined in hiding behind a clever online doppelganger in order to speak truth to power, even if for you power is that idiot neighbor who thinks you’ve been inside too long and is secretly keeping tabs on you. Nuts to that guy or gal or person or physical entity.
What am I saying here? I don’t know. Only, that I’m finally bored and want the world to know I’m refusing to cut my sadassed head of hair until this nightmare is over. It’s the passive-aggressive thing to do in such trying times.
©2021 David William Pearce